Page 164 of Beautiful Liar

One male and one female officer approach. “Was Clayton Getty holding you against your will?”

“Yes. Where am I?” I ask.

“You’re in the Bronx. Put your hands down, Miss. We’ll be taking you in for questioning, but you’re not under arrest.”

“I’m not?”

The female officer who approaches, shakes her head. “Are you all right?”

I stop and think about the answer. Everything inside me shakes. “No. I’m not.”

She nods, and her assessing gaze lingers on the bruise on my temple. “Well, let’s see about reversing that, shall we? The ambulance is here. We’ll get you some medical attention.” She beckons me closer.

My numb feet move toward her.

“Oh, and your people are here.”

“My people?”

The male officer thumbs a black limo idling on the curb. “Yeah, one of them had the clever idea to put a tracking device in the cash. It took two days, but the moment it was moved, we followed it…”

His words fade away as the back door opens and a sharp-suited black guy I’ve never seen before steps out. Closely behind him, Fionnella steps out.

Then the door on the farthest side opens.

Quinn steps out. Rushes around to where the other two are standing.

Across the street, rabid silver blue eyes spear into me. His hair is spiky, his unshaven face holding a million more shadows. In his eyes I read remorse, fear, determination.

He starts to cross the street toward me. “Elyse, are you okay? God, please tell me you’re okay.” His gravel-rough voice is grittier. Bleaker than I’ve ever heard it.

I don’t want to hear it now.

“No!”I take a step back.

He keeps coming. Hands outstretched.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Stop!”

Everything I saw on the laptop in the basement rushes back. I stagger back until my shoulder bumps hard into an iron railing. Both FBI officers halt, their gazes swinging between me and Quinn.

Q.

Whoever the fuck he’s decided to be today.

“Elyse, baby. Please, let me explain—”

“Stay away from me!”

The female officer’s hands fly out toward Quinn in a halting gesture.

The male officer frowns. “Miss Gilbert—”

“Officers, I don’t want those people anywhere near me,” I yell shakily. “Especially him.” I point at Quinn. Q. Jesus…

Quinn’s eyes flare in alarm. One hand spikes through his hair. “God, please! I need…please, don’t do this…Elyse.”

The sound of my name on his lips freaks me out harder.

“No!”Hysteria ravages my voice, but I’m past caring. “I don’t care if you have to arrest me, but please keep Quinn Blackwood away from me!”

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